


Perfectly Wrong.

by shawnslittlepeach



Series: SM3 [1]
Category: Shawn Mendes (Musician)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Heavy Angst, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-28 22:29:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17191478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shawnslittlepeach/pseuds/shawnslittlepeach
Summary: //Track 13//When we're making love you make it worth it.





	Perfectly Wrong.

The post-sex glow had long worn off, but you were still wrapped up in each other. Each of you silent, lost in your own thoughts. The mood was so much different than it’d been when you’d come over for a quicky before you two needed to head out for a friend’s birthday party. But that’s how your relationship usually went. You’d go from one extreme to the next, there was no grey area for the two of you. 

He taps your arm, signaling you to shift off his chest. You buried yourself further into the sheets, watching him throw his legs over the edge of the bed, his back to you. 

“We have to stop doing this.” 

“Why?” you droned, eyes glued to the ceiling. 

“We - it has to stop, alright? Before one of us gets hurt” he looked at you over his shoulder and slipped his boxers on. He put all the dominance in his voice he could muster but you both knew there was no weight behind his words, no matter how hard he tried. 

“That ship’s sailed don’t you think?” you said with a bitter chuckle. 

You knew you were picking a fight but you couldn’t help it. You were bored. Sick of the same script every time. 

“Don't start, okay? We need to go.” 

It was a mutual friends birthday party, at some bar and both of you had agreed to go. Swinging by Shawns beforehand sounded like a good idea at the time, but now all you could think to do was yell at Shawn. 

“No, Shawn. Please, tell me. Tell me how much worse  this could possibly get?” 

“We are not having this conversation right now. Okay?” He stood on the other side of the bed, running his hands through his hair. You were nearly distracted, with him having no shirt on but that was about ninety percent of your problem. 

“Why not?” 

“Because. That is what’s gotten us here in the first place. Talking. Rehashing old shit. Now please, get dressed” he pleaded, reaching for his rings on the bedside table before searching the room for his shoes. 

You start moving around the room finding bits of your clothes to put back on. Not because he told you to, but you really need to make your way to the bar. The last thing you needed was people staring at the two of you showing up together, late and flustered,  “You can't seriously think that's the problem here?” 

“I know it is. Every time we do this,” he hisses, motioning between the two of you, “nothing changes and every time we’re back doing the same shit and you are -” his voice got louder with every word, and you knew exactly where he was going, and you were not going to let him get off that easy. 

“No! You don't get -”  

“You are coming right back to me and we’re fucking like nothing ever happened!"

“Don’t put this all on me you fucking asshole!” you cursed, throwing a pillow at his head. 

The balls on this kid. 

He’s always pulling this, making you out to be some crazy clingy ex-girlfriend that just won’t take the hint but that’s not what this is at all. Neither of you is really sure what monster you’ve ended up creating, but clingy ex isn’t it. 

“If you hadn’t noticed, there are two of us in this situation. But for the sake of the argument let's say it is all was my fault. I started all this. But now?” you crawled your way across the bed to sit in front of him. “You pick up the phone every time I call. You invite me over, and you start telling me how you’re going to make me feel better or relieve any stress or whatever!” he walked to the other side of the room but you were right behind him, giving his shoulder a slight push for good measure, “And I hate you for it. Because every time I come over I leave somehow feeling worse than the time before.” 

He turns around and places his hands on your shoulders, eyes pleading. “Honey. Please, I'm asking nicely. We can talk about this another time.” 

There was never going to be another time. You couldn’t wait another month or two, you didn’t have it in you anymore. 

“I don’t give a damn if you’re asking nicely, Shawn. You can't keep pretending like this is okay. Because I know you see it! I know you do. This is not normal. This is bad.” 

“I’m trying” he huffs, fingers massaging his temples.  

“No, you’re not! You give me the same bullshit speech every time. we should stop. one of us is going to get hurt. Well, guess what Shawn? I’m hurt. And for some sick reason, I’m still here. I’m always here, so we need to sort something out because I can't do this anymore.” 

“I know!” he barked, turning towards you. 

Finally, some passion from him. Something to show that he can at least hear what it is you’re saying. 

“Okay? I know. You don't think I see how fucked up we are. How completely fucked this whole thing is? Believe me, I see it.” 

You stood there, arms crossed. You were a little surprised at how angry he seemed. Not at you, but at the situation, like he’d actually realized what it is you two had been doing. Or rather he was finally acknowledging it, “Then stop blaming me. And for fuck's sake why can't you just talk to me.”

“Because no matter how bad this is? I enjoy it!” he admitted, eyes locked on yours, “There. I like this! I like having you. Even if it's for a few hours. Or a night. Even if we can’t have a healthy fucking relationship. I don’t care! I want you. And when you call - I can't help it.” 

It’s everything you’d ever wanted to hear from him. At least you thought you did, but hearing him say it now? Out loud it’s not romantic at all. It’s toxic. 

He lets out a dry chuckle, shaking his head pitifully before going on. 

“I look forward to it, as fucked up as that sounds. All the ‘fuck you’s’ and bullshit that _you_ put me though? It’s worth it! Because in the end-” there’s only a small second where it looks like he’s really thinking about his words. Fighting with himself on whether or not to truly let you in to tell you what he’s feeling. Honestly. 

He pulls himself close to you, face unmoving, brown eyes looking right through you. 

“Because at least, in the end, I know you’re going to be in my bed, telling me you love me. Even though I know you don't mean it.” 

You wanted to scream that you do. You do mean it, and you’ve meant it every time you’ve said it. But whether you did or you didn’t doesn’t matter. No matter how you spin it, the two of you are bad together. You always have been. 

“Shawn -” 

“So, no. I don’t want to talk about it. I want to keep playing this twisted game we play because I’m a selfish prick. And I don’t want to let you go.”


End file.
